


it was your heart on the line

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Supernatural
Genre: Crossroads Deals & Demons, Everything Hurts, M/M, Resurrection, post-adwd, tumblr fic war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:38:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"What do you want?" she asks him.</i>
</p>
<p>Theon makes a deal, and Robb comes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it was your heart on the line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janie_tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/gifts).



> The prompt: _robb/theon, sort-of-spn-fusion: you can actually make the equivalent of crossroad demon deals in Westeros. post-adwd Theon makes one to bring Robb back without trying to argue in order to get as much time as possible for himself._

This boy is, honestly, the most pitiful thing Myrene has ever seen, and in her long career as a crossroads demon, she’s seen plenty of pitiful things. He looks, simply put, like a wreck—white hair, missing teeth and fingers, haunted look. Hard to believe this is Theon Greyjoy. _Been there, done that,_ she thinks. _Maybe he’ll bargain for his youthful appearance back._

"Well, now," she remarks, “look at you. From prince to some sad, little excuse for a human being."

He looks up for a second, and she expects him to argue back. Instead he just looks back down again, and huh. The body language is all wrong, for anyone with even a hint of pride left, but for someone who’s been through what dear little Ramsay had to offer when he was still human—

Seven hells. Myrene suppresses a shudder at the thought.

"What do you want?" she asks him. “Your birthright? Your looks? Your father’s approval? I can grant all that." She circles him as she speaks, sizing him up. “Of course, you’ll only have ten years to enjoy it."

"I know that," Theon says, for the first time meeting her gaze as he wraps his furs around himself. “I’m not—I’m not after those. Not anymore, anyway." He lets out a short, bitter laugh.

"Then what, exactly, are you after?"

There’s a long silence, before he says, “I think you already know."

She purses her lips. _Ah._ “You want him back," she says. “Robb Stark."

He nods. “Please," he says, his tone broken. “I’ll go with you after ten years if you wish, just—just bring him back."

She can’t help but pity him, this—this sad, broken creature. All the others, at least, had attempted arguing, bargaining for more time, and here Theon is, inches from throwing himself to his knees at her feet just so she can bring Robb Stark back. Had there still been anything human left in her, maybe she would’ve let him have more time.

But she’s a demon, through and through, and a job’s a job, no matter how much she pities the one asking for her help.

"I will," she says, and holds out her hand. “Come here."

For someone who’s only doing this for the first time, Theon seems to know what to do, and she marvels at how willing he is to throw his life away for this Robb. He’s trembling, and she doubts if it’s completely from the cold, but he leans in and presses a brief kiss to her lips.

(And somewhere in Westeros, Robb Stark wakes up for the first time in two years.)

—

It takes a while for them to find each other. Two years, in fact, of wondering if the demon had kept up her end of the deal—had he asked too much, after all?

But then one day someone walks into the tavern that Theon occasionally finds himself visiting (for the days when he just wants to forget, to drink himself into a dreamless sleep), sits next to him, and says, “Can you tell me where I can find an inn somewhere around here?"

And Theon’s eyes snap up from his drink to meet Robb’s.

—

Here are three things Robb has learned about Theon since he first woke up:

1\. Out of all the people who have ever betrayed him, not only is Theon one of the few, if not the only one, who actively regrets it, but it also turns out that he never killed his brothers or burned down Winterfell. (Bran and Rickon are still alive, thank the gods, but Robb is not sure he can ever go home.)

2\. He looks completely different from when Robb last saw him, which was, what, four, five years ago? Gods, how long has he been dead?

3\. Speaking of death, Theon is also the one responsible for Robb’s resurrection, which he would be thankful for if it didn’t involve making a deal with a demon.

"How long did she give you?" he asks, after Theon’s done explaining. It’s all a bit slurred, seeing as Theon’s been drinking before Robb came inside, but he gets the gist of it.

"Ten years," Theon says. “Eight, now."

A heavy weight settles in Robb’s stomach. " _Why_?" he asks, before he can stop himself. “Why would you throw your life away?"

"It isn’t worth very much," Theon says, as casual as if he’s only talking about the weather or the food, and not the fact that he traded his life so Robb could get his back, and gods Robb wants to find out what the hell happened so he can track down whoever convinced Theon that his own _life_ isn’t worth much and punch them in the face before cutting their head off. (He has a strong feeling he knows who it is, though.) “And I don’t regret it."

"It’s worth _something_ ," Robb argues. " _You’re_ worth more than what you think. Can’t you just—can’t you just back out of it?"

"If I do, then what happens to you?" Theon asks. “I can’t—you died once already, and I wasn’t even _there_. I _can’t_ let you die because of me again."

"And you’re all right with going to hell?"

Theon shakes his head. “Of course not," he says, “but that doesn’t matter. You’re here, and that was all I asked for."

Robb wants to scream. He wants to find this demon, and demand that she break the deal somehow, but then Theon, tentatively, places a gloved hand over his.

"Don’t," he pleads. “Let it be."

_Eight years_ , Robb thinks.

He says, “Do you want me to stay?"

Theon doesn’t say a word, but he sees it clear in his eyes—the pleading, the guilt, the resignation.

(Robb stays.

He stays for eight years.)

**Author's Note:**

> and then the Winchesters showed up and the Westerosi version of Crossroads Blues happened and _Theon didn't get dragged to hell and Robb doesn't die again_. That's how I make myself feel better about having written this, anyway.


End file.
